Casual Sex Rules

Now, if I'd only known they were counting on me! I actually had lunch at Balthazar this afternoon and though I would never have noticed, my fashion savvy companion pointed out that we were standing beside Anna Wintour and Diane Von Furstenberg. There was actually a vine/bush covered screen that was disassembled after they left the restaurant.

This morning a friend asked me what the etiquette is regarding a sick Fuck Buddy. Should she bring him soup? Absolutely not! That's his girlfriend's job. I realize this is a topic that I probably know far too much about that perhaps the world at large does not. NYC casual sex definitely has rules. Why don't people know them? What should I call this book of protocol? Keep it simple...perhaps "Friends With Benefits" But I've always hated that term. I'm not friends with my fuckbuddies! Obviously we get along, and I enjoy their company, but they are certainly not who I call when I'm in crisis. "Casual Sex Rules" I kinda like that one. Eh, titles can come later.

Here's a set of five casual sex etiquette rules:
1. The term "booty call" is from the 90's. It's nearly 2006, if you're drunk and horny at 2 am, the proper procedure is to send a text message. This is beneficial on several levels, a-if your fb is asleep (particularly beside their significant other) this is neither obtrusive or offensive, b-your friends beside you in the bar (or the person walking their dog as you stumble home from said bar) don't need to know how horny you are or what you'd like to do to your fb, text messaging is discreet!

2. Birthday and holiday gift exchanges. Again, NO! NO! NO! Kindly keep your fb relationship in perspective. The two of you strictly serve each other's carnal needs. Is there any gift that could top that? Fuck Buddies are NSA (no strings attached) soooooo if one of you buys a gift then the other is obligated to reciprocate. How uncomfortable! Why waste valuable foreplay time with unwrapping and niceties of that nature? The breath wasted on your insincere "I love it!" would be much better spent on your lover's earlobe or genitalia.

3. Spending the night. Definitely acceptable. Makes morning sex so much more convenient! Coffee? Morning smoke? Sure! Go ahead, but please don't expect to go for brunch. Now, a One Night Stand is different, breakfast could be a possibility. Who knows? This might be your next significant other. But if the boundaries have already been established and you are not in fact dating, why go through the charade that you are?

4. Ironically, this list has been interrupted by a rule number one. Ok getting back to business. Yes, you can tell your fb precisely how you would like to be done. Sure I understand you might not want to tell a potential life partner about your dirtiest and kinkiest fantasies, there's a fear of personal rejection in that situation. (But then again should you be spending the rest of your life with someone who isn't interested in what you really want?) I digress. Basically your fb is there to get you off, suitable partners for this type of endeavor will be (as you should be) open to instruction and correction. You should not be in bed with someone that you can not talk about sex with.

5. PART ONE: You may continue to date or engage in a serious relationship while employing the services of a Fuck Buddy. In fact, this is encouraged. (Before anyone gives me shit about the conflict of a FB engaging in a serious relationship, I ask you to recall the following things, a-I personally do not believe in monogamy and maintain a complete separation between the physical and the emotional, b-I am not responsible for anyone else's commitments, c-most people cheat) Depending upon the individual FB relationship, your dating or "real relationship" exploits may or may not be discussed. If permitted, however, it is poor etiquette to compare and contrast your partners.

5. PART TWO: It is NOT acceptable to engage a FB with a significant other that you know. This means your best friend's, sibling's, band-mate's and co-worker's boy or girl friend is off limits. One would think this is self evident. But for those of you who might make this grave tactical error, remember, a FB is a casual, strictly sexual based relationship. This situation will lead to emotional behavior resulting in uncomfortable social situations, accusations, basically all the stuff a FB is meant to avoid. Do not confuse being the FB of someone in a "real relationship" with "having an affair." Refrain from emotional investment in your FB at all costs, it will only hurt you. Mistaking lust for love in a FB situation is breaking the rules.

Mood: exceedingly accomplished!

I finally finished revamping my site! I'm particularly proud of the gallery section, I went to battle with the html gods and won. I think, so if you are in windows or some browser I didn't properly code it for, do let me know ASAP. While I'm thrilled to put so many photos up that have never been on the web, I wish they were all new shots. But since my face has remained essentially unchanged since I was 15, I'm not concerned that photos a few years old misrepresent how I look. Full disclosure: the blue latex dress shots are just a few months old, everything else is at least 5 years old. BUT....I do have several photo shoots scheduled after my return from San Juan, so the next update is not so far away.

While engaged in conversation with a new acquaintence, I was reminded of this post. I gave that attentive smile and nod while he went on about a current political topic that I knew absolutely nothing about. My smile was perhaps a touch more genuine as I thought about dashing into the bathroom to google the topic.

gifts...

Last night, after the Arena Holiday party, I met up with one of my best friends, his gf and a few of her friends at yuppie bar. I ordered my new favorite pretentious cocktail, a dirty vodka martini. I wouldn't order it at most of the bars I hang out in, so I was disappointed that it was not quite as amazing as the last time I had had it (when I ended up having four or five of them). I had a good time: random conversation, engaged in a Ms. Pacman duel, but the evening ended with my receipt of another perfect hanamas (for those of you not in the know, that is hanukkah and christmas combined) gift. I've received several absolutely amazing gifts and the holidays are still weeks away! OK, as much as I love the stuff I've received from my wishlist I am somewhat amazed at how my friends have chosen items for me that have brought me instant and complete joy. I, on the other hand, have purchased only one gift thus far, for a seven year old. I love shopping, I love giving gifts, but I hate this whole time frame pressure thing. What if I don't find the right present before the last week of December? And what is up with all this early gift giving?

Flip Flop Sidewalk Toes

This is a photo I took last summer of three NYC Mistress' sweaty and dirty, nyc street walking feet. Can you guess who they belong to?

Clockwise, starting at 3 o'clock, is ME! Then Nico of Rapture and Cyber.

My Frame of Reference...

I responded to Ardenne's post on Max Fisch entitled I can't even *think* vanilla! with the exact moment that I realized my frame of reference had changed forever. Many years ago I was asked to write a press release for Arena about our Valentine's Day Couples' Rental Special. The idea had been to appeal to a novice or more vanilla crowd via mainstream media (scenesters already knew our playspaces were available for rentals). "No problem!" I thought. But after about five or ten minutes in front of the screen, I said, "um...I really can't remember what vanilla people think happens at a dungeon. Everything I want to write either contains terms they won't get or will sound way too threatening."

Then a few weeks ago, I met a guy that I thought I was interested in. I sent him the links to this blog and my site. I told him that he'd learn more about me than he might even want to know, but I'm really open about who I am and what I do. The questions from his vanilla point of view were suprising to me. At first there were the obvious ones, terminology, what's CBT? (guess he didn't know that I'm in the midst of reading Family Jewels, a guide to male genital play and torment) NT? But then came the q's that illustrated that he really did not understand the BDSM dynamic. Dildo worship & training? Fisting? Did he miss the fact that I am the dominant player? Did he momentarily think I was a peep show girl? Obviously, I cleared up his misconceptions.

Why are my sessions always so thematic? The other day I saw two trample & smother clients. One of the sessions was a double Mistress with Emanuelle. During our consult he told us that while he was a novice, he really enjoyed trampling, "go crazy," he said, "bounce if you want." I'm sure you know that we took that comment and ran with it! I laughed so much while we absolutely crushed him!

You Really Can Buy Anything on eBay

I don't know how I hadn't heard about this previously. It took nearly three weeks and an email from a friend in Chicago. Ace Bar is for sale on eBay. Absolutely insane. I spent a tremendous portion of my adolescence drinking at this spot. Before it was Ace, it was The Mission. Back when I was in highschool and when I'd come home during college, this was my bar of choice. Granted, since I've lived in the neighborhood over the last decade I haven't really frequented it all that much, but I did have my 25th birthday party there (yes it had a theme, I forced everyone to dress as their favorite 80's teen angst movie character). There are no bids listed as of yet, perhaps it is just a publicity stunt, I know it's worked for me, I'll definitely stop in for a drink before I leave for PR.

This Week...

So the good news is that my knee is nearly healed, the great news is that I've finally figured out where I'm lounging on the beach for a week in late December! I'm headed to Puerto Rico. Absolutely alone and it is going to be phenomenal.

I spent time reworking my site this weekend. Why is it that every domme's website is black and red???? I'll let you all know when it is actually ready to be unveiled.

Something happened this week that leaves me utterly bewildered. I trusted someone that perhaps I shouldn't have. I am ashamed of my gullibility, angry at myself and yet saddened deeply by the whole experience.

She's Got Legs, She Knows How To Use Them (even when one isn't quite up to par)

I saw two new foot and leg clients this week. Ironic that the demand for my legs is rising as my knee injury made wearing fetish heels a near impossibility (but thanks to my AMAZING chiropractor, I'm well en route to 100%). I forced the first to go through several hoops to see me as I mistakenly thought he was someone who had previously no-showed me. He was absolutely sincere in his devotion to my feet. I find it amusing how men who enjoy legs and feet are consistently awed by mine. He was quite sweet as he lay on the floor gazing up at me with unabashed adoration that continued even as I crushed his cock with my foot. This guy was young, hard bodied and huge-cocked. I only note his size because it was larger than my foot! The other new client was also endearing after a misunderstanding in a completely different way. He was an older gentleman and so clear in his desires during consult that I had no idea it was his first session ever. He requested physical overpowerment and muscle worship. Throughout the session he made several inappropriate requests, such as asking me to remove my panties and to kiss my lips(!?!?!). I punished him each time, but it wasn't until afterward that I realized he wasn't trying to push my limits, he just didn't know the boundaries of professional bdsm. I asked how he had found me and he told me he had clipped the phone number from a magazine years ago. Why now? I asked and he truly couldn't tell me. But he made the most flattering comment, how decades of fantasy couldn't begin to compare with actually sessioning with me.

edited to add: I just d/l the song referenced in the title and it is horrible! My recollection of it is sooooo much better than the reality

No, I don't read the NY Post

I understand how a client may become addicted to his domme, but did he really think charging her services to his company credit card would just go unnoticed????

Moronic bit of behavior with severe consequences, followed by PANTIES, PANTIES, PANTIES!

I had a great Thanksgiving weekend. Spent it out in the Hamptons with the family I work for. Saturday morning I took the kids on a two hour bike ride adventure. We found this cool futuristic junglegym and climbed all over it together. The middle child was a bit sugared up so in the interest of burning off some of his excess energy, I had him running the length of a huge field while I kept time by screaming the seconds as they passed. He made great time and I told him that maybe when he was older he would run track. "What's running track?" asks the adorable near seven-year-old. I explain that it is a sport in high school, mostly racing but there are other parts as well and that when I was I high school I ran track. Over the hill I spy the goalposts of a football field, "Hey, let's go check that out, most football fields have tracks around them, I can show you what I'm talking about." Not only is the field encircled by a perfect blacktop, sixlane track, there are hurdles set up! Did it occur to me that I haven't jumped hurdles is 15 years? No. Did it occur to me that I'd never jumped hurdles in cowboy boots? No. I actually cleared both of the hurdles I attempted. Nice. However, I landed poorly on the second and seem to have done something that my left knee finds unacceptable. I'm limping. It can bear weight, isn't swollen, but isn't willing to fully extend either. I'm resting and giving it a few days. Which leads me to hours of web surfing. And obsessive research on unimportant topics.

A few weeks ago, when Sade and I watched Audition, we discussed the whole Japanese panty vending vachines (ie: bura-sera) thing. She put forth how awesome it would be if we could set one up at Purple Passion or at Rapture (could I be a guest panty seller?). So today with nothing but time on my hands I did some investigating. What do panty vending machines look like? Exhibit A:


It's just a converted cigarette machine! We can so do this!!!! My research also led me to this clip. Which is probably a part of why my craigslist panty selling exploits were so successful. I hand-delivered them. I know I posted one note a received, but this is what a most eloquent gentlemen sent after his purchase:

What can I say? Those panties were off the scale of deliciousness ( ... A, AA, AAA, supreme, extra fine) and into a realm where the olfactory becomes tactile. The humidity was unbearable. At home I stripped, showered, lay naked on my bed in the airconditioning, and proceeded to explore.

There was a subtle gradation of tone moving down from the front and intensifying in the very wet region of the cotton gusset, then a quite sudden and pronounced transition to the area moist with sweat from around your asshole, and where I discovered, to my delight, a single dark pubic hair trapped in the lace. Every part was glorious in its own way.

I then pulled the panties right over my face ("Abu Ghraib" style) with the central gusset area over my nostrils, closed my eyes, breathed deeply and rhythmically and quickly brought myself to two intense orgasms in ten minutes.

Wasting Time part 9,835

I'm not usually a web video animation watcher and I'm absolutely not a mass forwarder, but in my web travels today I watched two clips (both with audio)that made me smile. For people who love their gmail accounts as much as I do. Clip A. And for those who've read come to my blog after reading my preface (For clients: only proceed if you can handle the fact that I am not always in a corset and six inch heels, for vanilla friends, that I sometimes am.) Clip B is courtesy of Domina M via maxfisch. And yes it is horrific form to take a cell call during session.

What's Been Going On.

It isn't so much that I haven't had time to write, or that nothing blogworthy has happened, I just haven't been in the mood. Perhaps one day I'll expand on these notes, or you can always ask me for the story in person, I'm told that I tell the tales of my life well.

--Seduced a seminary student. I thought he was attractive before I understood that he would eventually be a priest, but am I an unhinged pervert for wanting him so much more after I found out?

--Had an intense choking session. It has never been an area of particular interest to me, but it seems I'm a natural.

--One of my favorite clients decided that sessioning with me was tantamount to cheating on his wife and that he could no longer continue deceiving her. I talked him away from the edge of confessing to his wife his addiction to me, but lost him as a client. I've always encouraged him to tell her about his fetish, who knows maybe she'd indulge him. But I find it so sad that he will bottle up everything he has discovered with me.

--Upon receiving the coffeemaker/espresso machine I'd placed on my wishlist, I purchased coffee, milk, sugar, chocolate powder, even a bottle of water in case I didn't like the taste of my tap. My lack of domesticity was proven when I realized that I was still missing some key elements for the perfect mocha, namely mugs and spoons. Also once I'd improvised with pint glasses, one must have dishwashing liquid on hand to do it again.

--the art of dating continues to elude me. Received an email from I guy I crushed madly on several months ago to find that meeting me inspired him to book an appointment with a pro-domme. Um, hello? No, it wasn't with me.

--Immigrant women have now scrubbed my floors twice and I do not care how bourgie it makes me, I love having a cleaning lady.

--After watching the entire first season of Carnivale in two sittings, I realize that the only shows to come on TV that have interested me at all in the last decade have been on HBO or Showtime. Too bad I still haven't hooked up cable. But then it is probably a good thing, as I might never leave my apt again.

--Placing all of my books onto my bookshelves gave me a pleasure that I think can only be described as perverse

--The thousand dollar black leather couch that I scored off of craigslist for two hundred bucks also gives me joy that is probably unhealthy.

--Visiting the chiropractor daily for a week after inexplicably blowing out my lower back, the tech comments, "I can't turn the [electro-stim] machine any higher, you've maxed it out." When the doctor has his elbow dug deep into my lower back, "You really have an incredibly high tolerance for pain." Did I miss my calling? Should I have become a pro-masochist instead? Don't even entertain the thought. I have yet to meet the man I would submit to.

--I adore sharing films that I love with people. I showed a hopeless romantic Say Anything and Audition to another sadist. I don't think that the sheer artistry of the torture in that film can be appreciated by someone who has never been in that headspace. What a precise sliver of my psyche is now up for grabs.

--Attended two seminars given by Flagg. As prepared as I was to dislike him (for no rational reason), I was pleasantly surprised. Knowledgeable man.

--visited a friend in the psych ward after a botched suicide attempt. I arrived with Boo Boo Kisses for her wrists. Thankfully she laughed.